Forgive the Children We Once Were
by Settiai
Summary: Just a few months ago, Anders wouldn't have hesitated. He would have kissed her back without a second thought about the consequences. Maybe he was getting old.


Even now, months later, it still didn't seem quite real to Anders that he was _free_.

Oh, he was well aware that in some ways he had exchanged one set of shackles for another. Belonging to the Wardens had its downsides, even ignoring the greatly shortened life expectancy and the frequent trips into the Deep Roads.

Still, it was more freedom than he had ever been allowed back in the Circle. And if the Chantry still held his leash by way of his phylactery, there was nothing they could do to him as long as he was under the Wardens' protection.

Not for the time being, at least.

Besides, he trusted the Warden Commander to keep him safe. In the decade or so that he'd known her, Amell had never been anything but loyal to those she considered friends. Although he never would have expected to fit that description himself, not when they had both still been in the Circle. Back then, she never wanted to have anything to do with a troublemaker like him.

Times had definitely changed.

"You're thinking too hard," Amell said loudly, followed by a drunken giggle that Anders suspected he probably shouldn't find so adorable.

Then again, he was probably just as drunk as she was. If not more. That should count as an excuse for any less-than-appropriate thoughts on his part.

"Thinking too hard?" Anders repeated, shooting her a lopsided grin. "No, no, you have it wrong. I'm the one who doesn't think enough, remember? As many times as Irving shouted it at me, you should know that by now."

Amell shook her head. "I never believed that," she said slowly, enunciating each word carefully, "even back in the Circle."

Anders shot her a skeptical look that set her off on another fit of giggles. "Really?" he asked. "You might have been the only one."

She shot him a Look, with a capital "L". Definitely a Look and not just a look. Anders had gotten good at recognizing them over the years. "Karl never thought that."

Just like that, Anders felt the pleasant haze around him sharpen into something a little darker, as if someone had flipped a switch. Without saying a word, he brought his mostly empty flask up to his lips and gulped down the remaining liquor inside it.

He tried not to think about the last letter he'd received from Karl, months earlier. Or the fact that none of the messages he'd tried sending to him since then had gotten any type of reply.

"I'm sorry," Amell said quietly, and Anders startled. He'd almost forgotten that she was there, even though it had only been a minute or two since she'd last spoken. "I didn't mean to ruin the mood."

She handed him her own flask. It wasn't very full, but it at least had some alcohol remaining in it. Which put it a step ahead of his own.

Anders took a deep breath, trying to push down the dark thoughts that were threatening to overwhelm him. It took more effort than it probably should have, but after a long moment of struggling he was able to smile at her even if it was slightly forced.

"Do you remember the first time I tried to escape the Circle by swimming across Lake Calenhad?" he asked lightly, taking a large sip from the flask she'd handed him. The time-honored tradition of changing the subject had usually worked in the past, and he hoped this wouldn't be an exception.

Amell let out a very unladylike snort, and his smile became a bit more real. "That was the time you almost drowned because you didn't actually know how to swim, wasn't it?" she asked, reaching out to snatch the flask from his rather loose grip.

Anders threw back his head and laughed. It probably wasn't quite funny enough to deserve that reaction, but the liquor running through him was helping him find the humor in the situation. And it helped push any darker thoughts firmly to the back of his mind where they belonged.

"I still can't believe that templar jumped in after me, armor and all," he said, chuckling. "The man was lucky it wasn't any deeper, or they might have never gotten him out.

Amell grinned at him and took a long swig from the flask. "I still can't believe the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter actually let you learn how to swim after that."

"Neither can I," Anders agreed, his mouth twisting into a smirk. "I'm sure both of them have regretted that decision at least seven times."

She rolled her eyes. "You didn't swim across the lake _every_ time," she pointed out. "I know you stole Kester's boat at least once. And wasn't the lake frozen over during one of your escapes?"

"Two," Anders said, reaching over to grab the flask from her grip. He brought it up to his mouth, grimacing when nothing came out. "Did you drink it all?"

Amell gave him a light punch on the arm. "It was my flask," she pointed out. "You already finished yours. You're lucky I shared at all."

Anders gave a theatrical sigh, causing Amell to let out another snort of laughter. She wavered in place, obviously struggling to keep steady.

He leaned over, resting his head against Amell's shoulder. He swayed with her when the extra weight caused her to almost lose her precarious fight with her balance.

"Stop that," Amell said, pushing him away from her. "You're making this hard."

Grinning, Anders turned toward her, a smart-ass comment already on the tip of his tongue about just what _she_ could make hard. More out of habit than any expectation of anything coming out of it. Pun completed intended.

Except then Amell leaned in and kissed him.

Anders froze, not pulling away but not kissing back either. No matter how much he, and certain parts of his anatomy that were suddenly showing quite a bit of interest, might have wanted to do so. A little voice in the back of his head that sounded much more sober than the rest of him pointed out very emphatically that it would be a Very. Bad. Idea. He could practically hear the capitalization at the beginning of each word.

Just a few months ago, he wouldn't have bothered listening to it. He would have kissed her back without another thought and gladly let things go wherever they led. Maybe this whole Warden thing had made me a bit more responsible. Maybe it the earlier mention of Karl still throwing him off-balance. Or maybe he was just getting old.

"You're supposed to kiss back," Amell mumbled, pulling away and shooting him a disappointed look.

Her face was flushed from the liquor, her dark hair falling loose over her face. She looked absolutely gorgeous, and Anders wanted nothing more than to kiss the frown off of her face.

Anders took a deep breath. "I'm not sure the King of Fereldan would approve of me kissing you back," he said, just a bit shakily.

Something that he couldn't quite read flashed across Amell's face, and she looked away. "Considering he's back in Denerim with his _wife_ ," she said, almost spitting out the last word, "I'm not sure it matters what he would or wouldn't approve of."

Despite his groin's rather noticeable annoyance with him, Anders couldn't help but feel a soft rush of relief that he hadn't actually kissed her back. It was easy sometimes to forget just how damn young she was, but just then the fact that she hadn't even turned twenty yet was as clear as day. "Solona," he said gently, "what is this about?"

For a second or two, he didn't think she was going to reply. Then her face crumpled, and the next thing he knew she had thrown her arms around him. Anders hesitated for just a second before reciprocating, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug.

"I miss him," Amell whispered in a broken voice, her words slurring together. He couldn't quite tell if it was from drink or because she was trying not to cry. "I know it's my own fault. I'm the one who convinced him to become king. I'm the one who convinced him to marry Anora. I'm the reason that we can't be together except during stolen moments here and there. But I miss him so much."

Her voice cracked at the end as she burst into loud, messy sobs.

Anders didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. He just tightened his hug, resting his head on top of hers and breathing in the faintly floral smell of her hair. Her sobs slowly faded into soft crying, before even those disappeared as well.

"I love him," Amell said, her voice so quiet it was barely audible, and Anders stiffened. "You know how it is in the Circle, Anders. Not even the bravest of us dares dream about falling in love, but I _did_. And he loves me back."

Oh, he was _ridiculously_ glad that he hadn't kissed her back.

"Come on," Anders said softly, unwrapping his arms from around her so that he could push himself to his feet. He swayed for a moment as the rather copious amount of alcohol he'd consumed made its presence known, but he managed to keep his balance. Then he reached down and offered Amell his hand.

She stared at him for a moment, tear streaks on her face, before taking his hand and letting him pull her up as well.

He wrapped his arms around her again, mostly as a reassurance but at least partly to help both of them stay upright. "I think it's time for both of us to get to bed," Anders said quietly. He paused for a moment. "Our own beds."

Amell let out a quiet laugh. It wasn't quite as open as her earlier giggles, but it at least was a far cry from her broken sobs from just a few minutes ago. "I'm sorry," she said softly, not meeting his gaze. "About all of this."

Anders squeezed her shoulder. "I got kissed by a gorgeous woman," he said, trying his best to keep his tone light. "What's to apologize for?"

Amell didn't say anything, and he had the sinking feeling that he had made some type of misstep. Then she looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears again.

"Thank you, Anders," she said, and for a moment he was looking at the Hero of Fereldan and not a grown-up version of the too-serious apprentice whose braids he had used to pull. Then she smiled, and she went back to being nothing more than Solona Amell. "You're a good friend."

Anders felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward into a smile. "You too," he agreed. "Now come on. Bed."


End file.
